


Time's End

by callunavulgari



Category: Doctor Who, Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 20:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She's been traveling with the Doctor long enough to know that sometimes bad things happen. Actually, they happen rather often, and she generally has one of two options. Option one: she finds the Doctor and gets the hell out of dodge before the bad thing blows up in their faces, or, option two: try to fix it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time's End

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the meme below, Zenelly gave me 6, K, E, and The Beautiful Blue Danube, which translated to Dark Link and Amy Pond at a carnival. For atmosphere, listen to [this.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e056R97svz8&feature=related) The title was taken from [this creepy ass song.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e0SrR4jL6ns)
> 
> Step #1 Pick a number between 1 and 10 for the setting.  
> Step #2 Pick a letter letter between A and K for the character.
> 
> \- Pair them up  
> \- Have them travel  
> \- Pick AU or canon  
> \- Add props or music  
> \- 500 word limit (probably)

She's been traveling with the Doctor long enough to know that sometimes bad things happen. Actually, they happen rather often, and she generally has one of two options. Option one: she finds the Doctor and gets the hell out of dodge before the bad thing blows up in their faces, or, option two: try to fix it.  
  
On principle, the Doctor is generally compelled to go for the second option. The times in which things were too bad to fix were rather few and far between, because the Doctor is stubborn as a pack mule at the best of times.  
  
The world that they've arrived in is lovely enough. Very quaint, this little town. There's a large clock in the center (she supposes that's how the town got its name) that the Doctor grins at, choosing to go tearing off across the square rather than stay with her, vanishing around the corner.  
  
The locals seem nice enough, but Amy isn't blind. She's played this game time and time again, so she knows what to look for—knows enough to see the fear in their eyes. There's a coldness to this place, a thin layer of fear that laps at her skin like mist. The cobblestone beneath her feet are clear of grime, and one of the carpenters milling about the place tells her that there's going to be a carnival.  
  
"It's a tradition, see," he drawls, hefting a large plank of wood onto his shoulder and ambling over to join the others.  
  
"The carnival of time," a redheaded woman tells her later, when Amy's tired of looking for the Doctor and has retreated into the shade of a nearby inn. "It's usually quite fun, but there's been all this fuss this year about the moon. There's talk that it may fall," she whispers, sending a furtive glance towards the window. "Some say that it isn't safe, so they've been trying to cancel it, saying we should evacuate. My mother and I are headed off later today even, so the inn won't be open."  
  
"Don't worry, they still plan on going through with it. You'll have a wonderful time, I'm sure," she says as she's ushering Amy out the door with a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.  
  
Now that she's thinking about it, the moon does seem rather eerie. It hangs fat and heavy in the sky, seemingly grinning down at them. She shivers when the clock chimes, a great rumbling sound that she can feel in her bones.  
  
When she tries to leave, a guard blocks her way, smiling nervously. "It's dangerous out there, m'aam. I'm sorry, but I cannot let you leave unless you have a weapon on you."  
  
The clock sounds again as she's walking away from the man and beneath her feet, the earth trembles.  
  
A little boy runs past her, hat flapping in the wind and a little ball of light trailing after him. As she watches, bemused, it darts up to his ear and a little tinny voice catches in the breeze. He turns, eyes catching hers, and she takes an involuntary step backwards. The rays of the afternoon sun turn his blue eyes to fire, fierce and far older than they should be. They remind her of the Doctor's eyes sometimes, when he forgets himself and lets people see just how old he really is. She takes a deep breath, ready to start after the boy, but when she blinks, he's gone.

.

The fireworks take her by surprise. She thinks that if she had the Doctor next to her, she'd be able to find them pretty—that she would manage to let the music and the excitement of the carnival soak into her skin. Not for the first time, she wishes that Rory were with her. The people look happy enough, especially when the clock tower groans its way to life, but she sees the way that they send nervous looks up to the moon when the ground shakes beneath their feet.  
  
She watches them dance, a glass of honeyed mead in her hand that she can't bring herself to drink.  
  
"M'lady, you don't appear to be enjoying yourself very much," someone purrs from the shadows. She jumps, glancing over her shoulder as a man steps into the light. He smiles at her, a jagged scar at the corner of his lip puckering with the motion.  
  
She laughs nervously. "I'm new," she says, clearing her throat. "Ah, just visiting. I managed to lose my friend in the crowd."  
  
He takes a seat next to her, sending her another roguish grin. "You chose a rather bad time to visit, I'm afraid," he says, gesturing upwards. She shifts uncomfortably, her skin crawling.  
  
She simply nods, flinching when the ground rumbles again. She watches a dog chase a little boy across the square and wishes for the Doctor. She's Amelia Pond and she doesn't take crap from anyone, but this type of fear is different. It's something subtle, the jagged edge of a blade in the dark, the bells of the clock tower like a death knell—ticking their time away.  
  
When she turns back to him, the man is watching her, a disconcerting look on his face that smooths back into a smile when she meets his eyes. Her mother used to tell her that you could tell a lot about a person by looking into their eyes, and she doesn't much like what she's seeing in his. They're red, cold and expressionless, despite the kind smile gracing his lips.  
  
A chill goes down her spine.  
  
The clock chimes and the ground trembles.  
  
And all the while, there's a monster with a man's face and a moon's grin peering down at her.  
  
"My name is Dark," he purrs, voice like bitter chocolate. "Would you like some help finding your friend?"


End file.
